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The Story Thread.... (move it to light later)

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    The Story Thread.... (move it to light later)

    It was dark, damn dark. The type of dark you only got when you're a blind man with a bag over your head. The sound of breathing resonated around the room that Johnny found himself in. It was his breathing, wasn't it?

    He could hear his heart beating out a rhythm. Da dum, da dum, da dum. He could feel his chest pumping, his face against the cold icy air. He could feel the steam rising from his breath, wet upon his nose. But that was not the sound of his breathing. It was something all the more disturbing than the sound of his own breath, blindfolded, hands tied behind his back, no idea where he was.

    It was something else.....
    What happens in General, stays in General.
    You know what they say about assumptions!

    #2
    Originally posted by MarillionFan
    It was dark, damn dark. The type of dark you only got when you're a blind man with a bag over your head. The sound of breathing resonated around the room that Johnny found himself in. It was his breathing, wasn't it?

    He could hear his heart beating out a rhythm. Da dum, da dum, da dum. He could feel his chest pumping, his face against the cold icy air. He could feel the steam rising from his breath, wet upon his nose. But that was not the sound of his breathing. It was something all the more disturbing than the sound of his own breath, blindfolded, hands tied behind his back, no idea where he was.

    It was something else.....
    "Damn this kinky S&M stuff" he thought as his wife gave him a blowjob, "..no need for it at all".

    THE END.
    Hard Brexit now!
    #prayfornodeal

    Comment


      #3
      Originally posted by sasguru
      "Damn this kinky S&M stuff" he thought as his wife gave him a blowjob, "..no need for it at all".
      But suddenly, the unmistakable feeling of warm treacle being poured over him shattered the daydream. This was no kinky Sunday afternoon romp with the missus - more sinister forces were at work here.

      He felt something damp and furry lick the treacle from his big toe. Johnny recoiled in dread, knowing this could only be his nemesis…

      You've come right out the other side of the forest of irony and ended up in the desert of wrong.

      Comment


        #4
        Originally posted by bogeyman
        But suddenly, the unmistakable feeling of warm treacle being poured over him shattered the daydream. This was no kinky Sunday afternoon romp with the missus - more sinister forces were at work here.

        He felt something damp and furry lick the treacle from his big toe. Johnny recoiled in dread, knowing this could only be his nemesis…

        The Beaver was back...
        "Being nice costs nothing and sometimes gets you extra bacon" - Pondlife.

        Comment


          #5
          Every man has his Nemesis….

          For some, it is his friends, his confidantes, his “friends” who follow him through the merciless travails of life, yet stab him in the back with their long knives when he needs them the most.

          For others, their Nemesis is something far more insidious and sinister, a growing cancer at the heart of their soul, who invades their very existence and begins to eat their host from within. Consuming layer upon layer of rancid flesh, decayed from the corruption of greed and selfishness, until the cantankerous odour of self is a distant memory.

          But his Nemesis was within, and it was borne from its host, nurtured by the kindergarten of the id, in the eternal drive to supplant the ego.

          Oh ego, he of a thousand waking moments who claimed the crown of consciousness and oppressed the id, where true desire dwelled.

          Who was the greater Nemesis ? That which oppressed or that which was suppressed ? Ego or Id ?
          Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.

          C.S. Lewis

          Comment


            #6
            But this was bollocks though Johnny. Trust me to go off on a tangent like a Labour politician faced with a public backlash.

            The breathing stopped. Johnny's heart was racing. Then the lights came on the warm orange glow beating through his blindfold, faintly, everso faintly he could here the tapping of a keyboard.

            He shook his head, eventually the blindfold moved away from his left high. Blinking, letting the light flood in, he could see it. Naked. Large and naked, quivering flesh as she tapped away at the keys.

            Contractor UK could be seen on the screen. In the right corner he could see it, a message.

            "Welcome Sally Anne" it read......
            What happens in General, stays in General.
            You know what they say about assumptions!

            Comment


              #7
              Originally posted by MarillionFan

              He shook his head, eventually the blindfold moved away from his left high. Blinking, letting the light flood in, he could see it. Naked. Large and naked, quivering flesh as she tapped away at the keys.

              Contractor UK could be seen on the screen. In the right corner he could see it, a message.

              "Welcome Sally Anne" it read......

              sorry but this is very funny!!! Well done MF
              SA says;
              Well you looked so stylish I thought you batted for the other camp - thats like the ultimate compliment!

              I couldn't imagine you ever having a hair out of place!

              n5gooner is awarded +5 Xeno Geek Points.
              (whatever these are)

              Comment


                #8
                Originally posted by MarillionFan
                But this was bollocks though Johnny. Trust me to go off on a tangent like a Labour politician faced with a public backlash.

                The breathing stopped. Johnny's heart was racing. Then the lights came on the warm orange glow beating through his blindfold, faintly, everso faintly he could here the tapping of a keyboard.

                He shook his head, eventually the blindfold moved away from his left high. Blinking, letting the light flood in, he could see it. Naked. Large and naked, quivering flesh as she tapped away at the keys.

                Contractor UK could be seen on the screen. In the right corner he could see it, a message.

                "Welcome Sally Anne" it read......
                As her sausage fingers tapped away on the keyboard, Johnny scanned the area, wondering just what he had gotten himself into.

                What he saw shocked him to his inner core.

                The room was covered in empty Ginsters pastie wrappers, half eaten pork pies, chips scattered all over the floor and hundreds of empty Big Mac Wrappers. Rats scurried around between this filth, gorging on what little scraps were left after Sally Annes latest binge.

                Suddenly, the tapping on the keyboard stopped.

                He saw the huge figure stand up, blocking out the light from the monitor. Thankfully, this created a silhouette which blocked out the finer details of this huge form that had now turned to face him, and was now moving across the room toward him.

                "Oh f**k", Johnny couldn't help screaming out.

                "Oh f**k...."
                Call the cops

                Comment


                  #9
                  For it was she, Sally Anne, doyenne of the call girls. After a brief career in IT, Sally Anne had turned to servicing IT contractors - after all it was a market she knew well. Using the infamous CUK forum as a contact board she had build up a thriving career taking the virginity of the sad geeks that inhabited it.

                  And so here Johnny was, with a real live, terrifying female at last, although not the wife of his fantasy .....
                  Hard Brexit now!
                  #prayfornodeal

                  Comment


                    #10
                    As Sally Anne sat at the keyboard, Barry the Beaver licked the last of the treacle from Johnny's toe and waddled over to his mistress. He hoped she would be surfing for some hot beaver porn, but was dissapointed to see she was still pointlessly tapping away at a site called Contractor UK.

                    He looked at his food bowl, and saw that Sally Anne had, once again, neglected to put down his evening meal. He'd hoped for a nice tuna steak, but the bowl only offered the dry cumbs of last night's deep-pan pizza.

                    Barry huffed and cursed under his beavery wiskers, then waddled back to the unfortunate Johnny...
                    Last edited by bogeyman; 15 January 2007, 17:22.

                    You've come right out the other side of the forest of irony and ended up in the desert of wrong.

                    Comment

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